Prophetic Dream
by Amaranthe Athenais
Summary: It's set in the pre-series to the show. Marian of Knighton is strong and stoic, but she is not invincible. In the moments when the darkness triumphs over the light, she prays for the life of the absent man who broke her heart and shattered her dreams for the bright future.


_This is a long oneshot about Marian. It is set in the pre-series to the show. _

_Lady Marian of Knighton is always strong and stoic, but she is not invincible. She is just a vulnerable woman, and in the rare moments when the darkness triumphs over the light, she prays for the life of the absent man who broke her heart and shattered her dreams for the bright future._

_Undoubtedly and unfortunately, I don't own any characters and the show._

_I hope you will enjoy the story._

_Any reviews are welcome. Constructive criticism is always welcome._

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><p><strong>Prophetic Dream<strong>

At the early dawn all was quiet when Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton mounted her horse and swiftly rode from the Knighton Hall to the old church in the suburbs of Nottingham. Nothing was to be heard but the night sounds of birds that never ceased twittering, and the horses snorting in the mist that rose over the ground before the morning.

The joy of the early morning, the full triumph of the light over the darkness, felt by animals and men, didn't penetrate Marian's heart and soul: her mind was focused only on one thing of supreme importance – her recent nightmare about Robin of Locksley's death in the Holy Land. A slight wind arose, and the sky looked pink and lovely, but Marian didn't wish to gaze at the glow of the sunrise.

Since Robin of Locksley had joined the Third Crusade about five years ago, Marian prohibited herself to think of her former betrothed. She wished to leave Robin in the past. She hated him with all her heart – she hated him for breaking her young heart and shattering her happy dreams, for choosing glory over his love for her, and for leaving her to survive through the natural hell life in Nottingham had become after Robin's departure.

Yet, Marian always remembered Robin, and her love for him was deeply hidden in the depths of her heart. She rarely permitted her thoughts to dwell on any subject related to Robin, and her true feelings about the absent man had never gone into the world. Yet, there were certain moments when she was unable to hide her true feelings; in such cases, she deliberately made her world confined by the walls of her bedchamber until the time when she managed to conqueror her emotions.

When Marian had no control over her thoughts, her mind always drifted off to Robin, and she dreamed about Robin dressed in the white Crusader tunic and leading the King's men into the battle. But today everything was different: Marian was waked by a horrible nightmare, which had recurred several times in her dreams. In her dream, Robin was wounded by the tall Saracen when he was shooting arrows at his enemies; she heard Robin scream in pain and she saw him fall dead to the sand. The visions of the wounded and dying Robin flashed in her mind during the whole night, and she couldn't escape from the terrible pictures, tossing and turning in her bed. And she awoke in a cold sweat.

Marian dismounted near the church, and tied her horse to the tree. Seven o'clock struck as the silent and somber lady entered the old church and walked down the aisle. Unable to think clearly, she walked twice as fast as before, and then knelt in the chapel. She started praying to God for the life of the man whom she didn't see for many years and whose life was so precious to her. She remained on her knees for so long that dampness had seeped into her bones and her legs were trembling with fatigue.

"_I thank thee, Lord, for sleep and rest, for all the things that I love best. But I am praying not for myself, but for the man who once was destined to become my lord and husband, for the absent man who can already be dead and buried in foreign lands instead of the graveyard in Locksley. Lord, I beseech you to save and protect this man and spare his life if he was critically injured and is now dying. O blessed Lord, protect this man and his loyal servant graciously, let your strong arm be always near them. Protect them with your own hand, from death and sin defend and keep them free. I beseech you to guide this man through another day and bless him. Lord, guard him through days and nights, and make him strong for noble ends. Whatever this man does, things great or small, thy glory may he seek in all, but he does it all in Jesus' name, and, Lord, for his sake I pray. I ask nothing for myself today – all this I ask for this man's sake and for the sake of his people who need him. Amen._"

"Lady Marian, what are you doing here for so long?" The priest hurried over to join her, his knees creaking when he knelt beside her. "You have been here since dawn. Are you alright?"

Marian lifted her head and stared at the old churchman, her sapphire blue eyes shining with tears. "I wanted to come here… after I had a bad dream."

The priest raised an eyebrow. "A bad dream?"

She regarded him through a veil of tears. "Yes."

The priest looked at Marian with deep sympathy in his wise eyes. "What was this dream about, my child, if you think you can open your heart to me?"

She lowered her head, looking down at her hands, refusing to meet the priest's eyes. "I dreamt that Robin… was mortally wounded in Acre." She paled, her lips turned bloodless; her voice was shaking. "I saw Robin tumble to the sand. I heard his scream of pain… There was so much blood in the place where Robin fell." She blessed herself with the cross. "And then I saw Robin lying on the makeshift bed in a strange place and Much weeping over his body. Someone's voice said that Robin… was dying."

The old man sighed. "Do you have any news about Sir Robin?"

"No, no," she answered, shaking her head.

"It has been about five years, and we still have no idea what happened to the young man."

Marian steeled herself against all emotions, then glanced at the priest. Yet, despite all her efforts to regain her composure and look calm, she was still clearly distraught. "The last news I got about Robin was from the young Crusader who returned from Acre half a year ago." She wiped away her tears. "He said that Robin was alive and was doing well, but everything could have changed since then."

The priest smiled. "Lady Marian, pray for Sir Robin. I will also pray for him."

"Thank you," she said in a shaking voice.

Marian tried to climb to her feet, but she felt lightheaded and almost lost her balance. The aged priest cast a scrutinizing look upon her. Marian's face presented the most sorrowful aspect imaginable: she blushed and then turned ghostly pale, her gaze was blurry as dazzling lights flashed before her eyes.

The priest took pity on Marian. "Take my hand, Lady Marian." He seized her arm and led her out.

Marian left the church in the outskirts of Nottingham when the sun was shining brightly in the sky, much to her mortification and surprise. She didn't know that she spent so much time in the chapel, praying that her dream about Robin's death was no more than the product of her active imagination.

Since Robin had departed to the Holy Land many years ago, she always went to the chapel if she had dreamt of his death on the battlefields of Outremer, and every time she begged God to spare the life of the most intolerable and infuriating man in the world and let her see him at least once more in her life. She also prayed for Robin's survival every evening at home.

As Marian rode from the chapel to the Knighton Hall, she was again thinking of Robin. Marian raised her eyes and looked heavenward, praying that Robin was still in the world of the living at that very minute. Truth be told, she didn't expect Robin to survive in the Holy Land; the horrible visions of the suffering and dying Robin ravaged her mind with excruciating pain and torture, and she was utterly helpless against them. Today's bad dream about Robin's death brought back all her pain and anguish she had been trying to bury deep inside her heart since the day of Robin's departure.

She remembered the day of her last meeting with Robin. Robin had offered her to marry him before his departure, but she rejected him and threw her engagement ring into his smug face; now she regretted that she broke betrothal to Robin and wished him to never come back home, thinking that if Robin had died in Acre, she would never forgive herself for rejecting him. The memories were painful and sweet, and an explosion of pain consumed her, body and soul.

As she rode along the edge of the forest, Marian looked around, her eyes taking in the huge maple, oak, beech, and meadow trees lifted column-like straight up to a lucent green canopy, twinkling in the sunlight. She heard the sounds of rustling, pattering, scrambling, whispering, and scurrying with a rush of wings; there were many wild creatures in the woods. By the exercise of imagination and experience she identified that they could have been a squirrel, a weasel, a hens, or a deer.

Marian set the horse into full gallop, for she was unable to be so close to Sherwood Forest at that minute. Every time she looked at the forest she remembered Robin. Robin, Marian, and Much had spent countless gladsome minutes in the forest in their childhood and early youth. Robin had proposed to her in the forest when he had sunk to one knee and then had given her a short speech about his desire to marry her and only her, grinning at her and stating that she had been the only noblewoman who had understood and appreciated his mischievous nature. Everything in the woods reminded her of Robin and the shattered dreams of their happy future.

"Robin, we parted our ways on bad terms, and I broke our betrothal. I threw my engagement ring into your face, though I knew that I did a wrong thing to you and to myself," Marian thought. Tears stung her eyes, and she brushed them away with the back of her palm.

Robin never wrote to Marian during the long years of his absence in Nottingham, probably feeling that it was in vain after their farewell meeting in the forest. She craved to have at least some news about Robin, hoping that the young fool wasn't slaughtered by the Saracens yet. From time to time, she heard the rumors that Robin had become one of the King's chief generals on the Crusade and achieved glory on the battlefield. Yet, there was no accurate information about Robin's fate – only rumors.

Six months ago, Marian had learnt that the son of one of the local lords from Nottinghamshire had just returned from the Holy Land after he had been severely injured in the battle. The young man had attended the Council of Nobles, and after the meeting had been over, he had begun to talk about King Richard's glorious Crusade. He had told the nobles many stories about the siege of Acre.

The young lord had admired King Richard's war strategies and military talent, bravery and leadership. He had also spoken a lot about numerous fierce and bloody battles with the Saracens, complaining that the King's men could have been attacked more five or six times in a single day and that there had been times when they had fought on a not-stop basis for several days in a row. The young man had also lamented that the King's troops had starved at the beginning of the long siege of Acre.

When Marian had almost lost all hope to hear something about Robin, the ex-Crusader had started bragging that he had served under the command of Sir Robin of Locksley for nearly two years. He had told many stories about Robin and his heroic deeds in the land of Jesus Christ. Marian had learnt that Robin had been appointed the Captain of King Richard's Private Guard in the end of the first year of the Crusade. The same man had reported that Robin had become the legend of the Holy Land and earned the reputation of the brave Captain Locksley, and that Robin's name had been spoken in those distant and mysterious lands with adoration, fascination, envy, respect, and fear.

The man's war stories had sounded like something from the different world – something enigmatic and unfathomable – in Marian's perception, but she had listened, eagerly and greedily, to every world the man had spoken about his commander. She had only smiled, listening to the man and thanking God that her former betrothed had been alive after four years of the bloody war in Palestine.

She had been happy that Robin had been alive, but the truth about Robin's successful military career had burst through her with unrelenting anguish: he had deserted her for glory and had achieved it while she had led a lonely and miserable life under the brutal authority of Sheriff Vaisey.

Marian choked down the tears welling in her throat. "Robin, you achieved exactly what you craved so much to have – you are blossoming in fame, love, and adoration. And I am here, without you, trying to take care of the people whom you abandoned for the sake of glory on the battlefield," she mused. "I hate you for what you did to me, but I am still waiting for you."

She dismounted in front of the Knighton Hall, then gave the reins to the stable boy. She climbed the wooden footsteps and went directly to the manor. She didn't wish to talk to her father and the servants: she wanted only to be in the solitude of her bedchamber, separated from the world, her father, and herself. She wished only to hide her fears and insecurities because at that moment she was unable to play a role of the stoic and cold Lady Marian she had become after Robin's departure.

Marian stumbled into her father in the parlor. "Father," she said, not looking at him.

Sir Edward of Knighton eyed his only surviving daughter. At the sight of the great emotion in her unnaturally pale face, he felt terror filling his heart. Marian was trembling, and the tears stood in her eyes. "What is the matter, Marian? What happened?"

"Nothing," Marian replied in a barely controlled voice.

Edward arched a brow. "Nothing?"

Marian looked at her father. "I am fine, father. Please don't worry."

He put a hand under his daughter's chin and turned her to face him. He saw that tears stood in her sapphire eyes. "Marian, you are sad and frightened. Tell me everything. Did Sir Guy of Gisborne or Lord Vaisey do something bad to you? Did they… threaten you?"

Marian lowered her eyelids, wishing not to open them again and to forget the last five years of her life. But she knew that there was no solution to her troubles and there was no way to go back in time. She remained silent, and strange thoughts gradually took possession of her until she hardly knew what she was doing. And then a thought struck her: the only solution was to live in the needs of the day, forgetting about Robin and herself and helping her father and the people. Next moment, nevertheless, she opened her eyes, still shimmering with tears and sparkling with prismatic colors.

Her lips quivered with emotion as she responded, "Father, Sir Guy and the Sheriff did nothing wrong to me. I didn't see them since the last Counsel of Nobles yesterday."

Edward sighed, then took his hand away from Marian's face. "What happened, Marian?"

Marian smiled slightly. "I just had a nightmare. Nothing else."

Edward didn't need to ask his daughter anything else. He knew that Marian was continuously plagued by nightmares about Robin's life in the Holy Land. Several years ago, she confessed to him that she had troubles with sleep because of the constant nightmares when he asked her why she was so tired after a long night. He could easily guess that Marian again dreamt of Robin's death.

"Marian," Edward said in a caressing murmur, "I understand your feelings, but you shouldn't torture yourself. You are so distressed, so overwrought, but it was just a dream – it means nothing."

Marian smiled as she grew calmer, and for a minute they both were silent.

"I hope you are right," Marian commented quietly.

"Very well," he retorted, giving her a warm smile. "I expect you are as hungry as a wolf; you awoke very early today. The servants have gotten everything ready for a late breakfast."

She shook her head. "No, I don't feel hungry at all. I will go to my room and spend some time there."

Sir Edward sighed heavily. "Then I will ask nobody to disturb you."

"Thank you."

"Now go," he prompted. "Come downstairs when you feel you are ready."

Marian smiled at her father. "I promise that I will find you soon." She kissed him on his cheek and then hurried to leave, heading to her bedchamber.

Edward emitted a heavy sigh at the sight of Marian climbing the stairs. Edward loved Robin very much and tried to play a fatherly role in Robin's life after the death of Sir Malcolm of Locksley in the fire at the Gisborne Manor. Yet, he didn't understand the depths of his daughter's feelings for Robin, though he wanted them to marry before Robin's departure.

Like Marian, Edward was concerned about Robin's fate, but he didn't expect the young man to survive in the brutal war; he didn't share with Marian his thoughts, but he knew that she feared the same. Looking at Marian who was so exasperated after a mere dream about Robin's possible death, tragic and heroic, Edward prayed that Robin would return to Nottingham alive.

As soon as she got to her bedroom and slammed the door behind herself, Marian threw herself on the bed. Unable to keep her feelings under control, she sobbed her grief in a soft pillow. Although she knew that she just had a bad dream, she could do nothing to ease the pain that was tearing her heart apart. She wept until her throat turned dry and she didn't lose her voice.

Any thought of Robin's death in Acre hurt her beyond any measure. An agonizing pain gripped her heart and was squeezing it so tightly that she couldn't breathe. She feared that she would never see his cheeky, arrogant, and charming smile again. She feared that she would never scold him and advise him to grow up, and he would laugh at her in response, his entrancing, infectious laugher easing her burdens like a light breeze caressing her skin.

Marian loved and hated Robin. She wanted Robin and only him. She wanted him to come back and be with her, to smile at her and soothe all her fears. She wished Robin to laugh with her and whirl her in the life of thrilling adventures. Yet, Robin wasn't with her when she needed him to be at her side, and she hated him for deserting her and the people. Robin made his choice and went to fight for England and King Richard in the Holy Land, while she made her choice and had to live with it.

"_Robin, I hate you will all my heart_," Marian whispered in her pillow as she sobbed. Her heart slammed painfully in her chest. "_But please don't die. Just don't die in the Holy Land_."

The tears glimmering in her eyes, Marian rose to her feet. She wasn't going to leave her bedchamber today. She needed loneliness and privacy. Most of all she needed Robin, but she couldn't have him.

She came to the window and looked outside, remembering Robin who had frequently climbed to her window in the nighttime. But Robin was not going to appear at her window tonight, and she doubted that it would ever happen again. She resigned herself to the fact that Robin wouldn't come back home for a long time, protecting the King and striving to ascend to the meridian of glory.

"_I love and hate you, Robin, but I still love you more_," Marian whispered to herself. Tears trickled down her cheeks. "_Please, stay alive and come back home. Come back to me_."

Marian couldn't know that she had a prophetic dream about Robin. On that night, Robin of Locksley had been almost mortally wounded from the back by the Saracen, but he managed to stand up and forced himself to run to the King's tent; Robin had heroically saved his liege's life almost in the last instant before the Saracen could have struck a fatal blow at the sleeping King. After the assassin had escaped, Robin collapsed on the sand and was discovered there by King Richard in a huge pool of blood.

Like in Marian's dream, there were rivers of hot, crimson blood of the King's savior in the royal tent; blood was on the sand and the Turkish carpets that covered the ground. When Much appeared in the tent, Richard was holding his savior in his arms; then Robin was carried to his own tent. As Marian prayed for Robin in the church, Robin lay bleeding and feverish in his tent, while the King's personal physician performed magic manipulations with the wound in Robin's left side. King Richard and Much stood near Robin's bed; Richard's eyes were full of sorrow and Much sobbed almost uncontrollably.

As if she were feeling that the life of her former betrothed had really been in grave danger, Marian passed next several hours in prayer, and she was in a condition bordering on sheer despair and mortal dread. Only when her father knocked at the door of bedroom and came inside, she awkwardly jumped to her feet, crossed herself, and stopped praying. Not wishing to sadden the already distraught Edward, Marian quickly agreed to go downstairs and have a meal with her father.

Marian was conscious that it was impossible to get away from her usual daily responsibilities, and she pretended that she was alright. Yet, the nearness of Robin's death revived in her heart, and the apprehensive feeling was now even stronger than before. The pictures of Robin's death passed before her eyes one by one, and she prayed that her fears were empty. Yet, the voice in the back of her head said to her that Robin was alive, at least for some time, and that sensation was urging her to live.

She would live and carry on her duties to her father and the people. She would feed the poor and would continue fighting with the Sheriff as the Nigthwatchman. She would survive without Robin because she had to live. But Robin would come back – he had to return alive, because if he had died in the Holy Land, she would never forgive him for his death and for leaving her alone in the world.

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed this story. <em>_I found this long oneshot among my old files. I wrote it more than a year ago and forgot about it._

_I have never liked how Marian treated Robin after his return from the Crusade. I know that Robin abandoned her and their betrothal was broken, but Robin came back from the war – he survived brutal slaughter and came back! It is sheer luck that he managed to stay alive the five years of the fierce, bloody, constant fighting in the Holy Land. __We should also take into account that Robin was a knight and a man of honor, and it was normal for loyal knights to follow their King into the battle; so Robin did nothing bad from a historical perspective when he went to fight in the Holy Land._

_Yet, Marian was so angry and so cold to Robin after his return. I do understand her conflicted feelings for Robin – she is hurt and wants to hurt him in return, but I __have always thought that Marian was too cold to Robin and that she should have treated him more kindly and with more compassion. _

_I wanted Marian to give in to her emotions at least in the church and in the privacy of her bedroom. I wrote this oneshot because I wanted to show Marian's real thoughts and feelings about Robin. _

**_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading this story._**

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs_


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